The “Music” Man

I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.

-Kurt Vonnegut

As the school year is slowly coming to a close, we’ve had many performances and concerts to attend.

K’s love of the arts ensures that we’re always attending her newest show.

A local group purchased a great deal of music for our district to use and to thank them, several schools got together for one HUGE concert.

K had been singing her arrangements plus some of the others as well for many weeks. I had songs from The Music Man stuck in my head and was looking forward to seeing the kids sing them.

Five schools performing means five schools worth of families coming to support their people, packed into one middle school gym.

Up the old wooden bleachers we climbed until my small heard landed in two rows second and third row from the top. The bleachers started to fill. The band warmed up.

These kids have put so much into their craft that the gymnasium was a buzz with energy.

“Dude, is that your feet?” The Handsome Prince questions Luc.

“New shoes AND I’m wearing socks.” Luc responds as The Prince grabs his foot and is now smelling his half grow child’s foot in public.

“Who farted?” Kenz questions and everyone points to someone else.

Kenz then leans down to check the status of her feet, announced she didn’t stink and had reapplied deodorant before we left.

Excellent!

Besides the fact that everyone that I was with that evening had double checked any potential point for bodily smell right there sitting next to me, I should have known we were going to hell in a bucket but at least the music would be good for the ride.

At least we ruled out the potential for stink and we were not the offenders.

The elementary kids started up a rousing rendition of The Wells Fargo Wagon, when half way through my program was snatched from my hand by Min. She was desperate for a fan.

To which he gestured something about that he’d claim it if it was him but it’s NOT.

I thought she was being dramatic but seriously people, you could almost see the putrid green cloud hanging in the air. When it reached me, my nose hairs burned clean off, eyes watered and Luc announced loudly that it wasn’t him.

He was intently watching the show on stage, not the one in the bleachers.

“Ya Got Trouble” starts playing and then it happened…

76 Trombones trumpeted so loud from the bench right in front of us.

Min looked like she’d been slapped; he was sitting directly in front of her.

She’s quite the physical comedian. He’d fart and she’d go through this range of faces that put me in danger of becoming a representative for Depends.

Every few minutes The “Music” Man tooted his horn.

Every. Few. Minutes. No Joke.

It smelled so bad that people far from us were trying to scoot over to spare their loved ones.

Min looked like she might just come sit on my lap until the lady next to me spearheaded the mass movement of our row to evacuate my poor daughter from being directly in the firing zone.

At some point The Handsome Prince texted to let me know that the most recent round smelled a bit like pineapple. Min saw the message and promptly said that she could no longer eat pineapple… like never ever ever again.

The “Music” Man killed pineapple too.

I have never laughed so much with a group of people during a choir concert in my entire life.

I almost felt bad for the guy but the bathroom door was 8 feet from us.

EIGHT FREAKING FEET!

He was The “Music” Man instead of us enjoying the music.

I felt worse for those of us that chose the dreaded left to middle section of seating.

The other side of the room must have thought there was a gas leak from the behavior of us all… well, um, I guess there was.

I asked K if she could see what was going on from where she was.

Her answer: “So & So said after the laughing the third time that my family must be on that side. What do you know, I look up and of course, there you are.”

The neighborhood concert was a complete success!

They wanted to bring our schools together and I’m here to tell you we bonded deeply with parents from other schools over this one.

My daughter got a hug from a sympathetic mom from the other high school after her brave evacuation efforts.

In spite of the trumpet of the “music” man it was a memorable night for all.

The passion in which these teachers give the gift of music to our children is humbling.

They truly go above and beyond to keep the arts alive and appreciated in our desperately underfunded schools.

It’s magical to watch these children perform.

Our days are filled with K’s voice singing the soundtrack to our lives and it never gets old.

Shy K leaves the second she hits the stage and every ounce of her love for music shines through when she sings.

The “Music” Man and all, there is no place I’d rather have been.

Applying extra deodorant,

Meg xoxo

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3 comments

I love The Music Man! Sometimes I just look for happy blogs (writing so much about sad stuff, you need a break). I’ll link over here when I link to other bloggers, plan to do that in a June post. Best, TD